


Center of Our World

by thedarlingone (Curuchamion)



Series: Gift Fics and Yuletides [15]
Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Naked Cuddling, OT4, Polyamory, Quarantine, Reunions, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 08:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15335430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curuchamion/pseuds/thedarlingone
Summary: Prompt from a cuddlefic meme: "OT4, just waking up". Post-Distna quarantine.





	Center of Our World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icandrawamoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/gifts).



> Betaed by Mayhem21 and camshaft22, who are excellent as ever. *hugs* Also written to [this prompt](http://polyshipprompts.tumblr.com/post/167088229614/imagine-your-polyship-all-trying-to-fit-together) from polyshipprompts on Tumblr: "imagine your polyship all trying to fit together on a twin-size bed and having to pretty much lie on top of each other"

There were people in his bed.

Wes drifted vaguely toward consciousness, fumbling through his thoughts. It felt right, being squashed under a tangle of warm bodies and limbs -- comfortable, cozy, relaxing -- but it also felt… strange in a way he couldn't identify.

He snuggled deeper into the pile, tightening his arm around a lean waist, squeezing the butt he found under his other hand, turning his head to nuzzle into the mop of hair that brushed his cheek. This all felt so familiar; why was his hindbrain uneasy?

A sudden snore in his ear made him jump, and as if the movement had jolted him awake, he remembered. Hobbie! Hobbie and Wedge and Tycho -- they'd all been dead. Dead and cold in space. He'd been alone, his bed empty for long weeks. And now, by some miracle, here they all were again. 

He blinked his eyes open. The quarantine room was darkened, still on ship's night, but he could see Wedge's silky dark hair near his face. The bony, angular frame pinning down his right arm could only belong to Hobbie, which meant the butt under his left hand was Tycho's. But how could -- weren't they -- Wes turned his head, confused, and squinted past Tycho's blond head.

Sure enough, they'd all piled into one of the narrow medical beds… somehow. If the bed hadn't had rails, Tycho would have fallen off in the night. As it was, one arm and leg dangled off the bed, and he'd burrowed his face into the crevice between mattress and rail. Wes's left arm lay angled across Tycho's back and down.

Grinning, Wes squeezed Tycho's butt again, then smacked it gently. Tycho twitched and burrowed further down the side of the mattress. Wrapping one leg around Wedge's as he continued fondling what he could reach of Tycho, Wes turned most of his attention to Hobbie, who lay cuddled close against Wes's side with his head tipped back and sideways, his mouth unflatteringly wide open. As Wes watched, he let out another single snore.

Waking Hobbie up was always a delicate matter. He could fly and shoot long before he actually became coherent in the mornings. Still… Wes pulled Hobbie's shoulders closer, wrapping his left arm around Wedge's waist for better leverage, then leaned over to Hobbie and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Wakey wakey, Hobbs," he murmured. The man barely twitched.

Tycho, finally reacting to Wes's ministrations, rolled half over, his back landing against Wes's shoulder. "Hmnh?" he said intelligently.

Wedge kicked suddenly and woke up all at once, pushing himself up on his forearms so he could blink blearily down at Wes. "Ngh -- 'Es?" he said, frowning.

Wes smirked up at him. "Morning, love," he said, hugging Wedge close. He'd missed all three of his lovers so much.

Wedge scowled even harder, still blinking. Shifting his weight, he reached up and cupped Wes's cheek in one hand. "You're not dead?" he asked.

Wes surged upward, sliding his hand up Wedge's back to tangle in his hair, and kissed him hard and desperately. "I'm not dead," he said, breaking the kiss, his heart pounding raggedly. "And neither are you."


End file.
